Becoming Alice
by lmhsfan
Summary: Two-year-old Mary Alice Brandon is woken one night to find that the Bad Man is coming. Mommy tries to save her, but ends up hurt. Dr. Edward Cullen is charged with saving both mother and daughter in this prequel to Slumbering Swan.
1. Part One:  Mary

**All right, well... Here is Part One of little Alice's tragic tale. This is the sad part. The part where nothing good happens. If you would like to skip this and wait for Part Two: Alice's Discovery, you may.** **I wanted desperately to get all of the fluffy nice stuff out of the way first, but it's been months and it never came. So I thought that this would be better than nothing. Look for Part Two, which will be shorter, but much more positive than this. At least I hope so. lol**

**WARNING: THIS OUTTAKE CONTAINS MATURE THEMES SUCH AS HARSH LANGUAGE, ABUSE, NEGLECT, AND NON-CONSENSUAL SEX. (Though I could never do that to a baby, even in writing. She is safe on that count. Promise.) **

**If any of these things are offensive to you, please skip this update and do not tell me how angry you are that I put this out into the world. I didn't invent the shit these people do, I just wrote about it.**

**Oh, and I still don't own anything you might recognize.**

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><p>It was past midnight on a weeknight. That only meant one thing: Frank was out drinking again. Time flew quickly as Mary Ann prepared for his arrival. Sharp objects needed to be hidden. Any light, solid objects had to be secured. Frantically, she shoved an umbrella, a small lamp, and everything around the fireplace into the lockable hall coat closet. He would have his belt on, and that would be enough.<p>

"Shit!" She cursed, checking the time.

It was almost two thirty; he would be home any minute.

"Mary," she whispered sweetly. "Mary, it's time to get up."

"Mommy?" Mary whispered sleepily, rubbing her eyes vigorously with tiny fists. She had seen Mickey do it on a cartoon once and thought that it was what one was supposed to do when waking. Mary was very smart for a just-turned-three-year-old and liked to learn through imitation. Thus far, she had not been impressed with eye rubbing. It hurt.

"Mary, Daddy wants to play a game. He wants to play Hide and Seek. Do you remember how to play that game? You were so good at it the last time." Mary Ann longed for the days when she could just put the baby in the closet and lock the door. Things were getting complicated, and she didn't know how long she'd be able to keep this up. As if the Devil had heard her prayers, Mary chose that night to disobey.

"No, Mommy," Mary pouted. Mary's daddy was always wanting to play games. She had spent so much time in dark spaces, playing Hide and Seek, she couldn't even remember who she was supposed to be hiding from. Mary wanted to see her daddy, and Mary wanted to sleep. She did not know which she wanted more, but she knew one thing: "Don' wanna pay wif Daddy no more!"

"Yes you do, sweetie," Mary Ann cooed. "Just for a little while. Super secret spy, okay? Don't let Daddy find you." She picked her daughter up gently, but Mary _really _did not want to play.

"No, Mommy! No!" She cried, kicking and screaming. "NO! NO! NO! NO! NO!"

It was 2:35 and Mary Ann was out of time. She threw Mary into the crawl space and slammed the door shut. "You will do what you are told, Mary Alice Brandon!" she yelled through choking sobs. "You… You've been a very bad girl, and you must be punished!"

"No!" Mary yelled, pummeling the door with her tiny fists. The door barely rattled, but it was enough.

"YOU FUCKING STOP THAT RIGHT NOW!"

"Mommy…" Mary whispered. Her mother had said the word. The very worst word in the whole wide world. Bad things happened when people said that word. Mommy said so.

"You have been so bad, Mary!" She continued to lie. It made her want to vomit, but what choice did she have? "You made me say the word, Mary. Now they're coming to get you!"

"It… It was a…a," Mary tried valiantly to summon the word, but it was an impossibly large one for such a small child. Luckily for her, Mary's mother knew it too.

"It may have been an accident, Mary, but you made me do it! Mommy can protect you, but only if you're hiding, understand? When Daddy comes home, he will want to play, but he doesn't know the bad man is coming. You have to stay quiet, Mary. Absolutely silent. Do not answer your Daddy when he calls for you! Do not talk to the bad man! Do not even breathe louder than a mouse! Do you understand me?" Shit, that was Frank's car in the driveway. It was imperative that her daughter stay unfound. "DO YOU UNDERSTAND ME?"

"Yes, Mommy," Mary sniffled.

"Take the key, Mary," Mary Ann whispered as the front door shook. He wasn't even bothering with the handle tonight.

Mary looked down to see that a key had been slipped under the door and was resting at her feet.

"When I ask you to give it back, you slide it under like I did, okay? Only me. Starting now, you don't say anything. Not until this door is open, or else the bad man will get you. Okay, Mary?"

As instructed, Mary did not answer, and Mary Ann sent up a prayer: _Thank you, God for a smart and obedient child._

The thought had only just completed, when a large crash resounded through the house. Frank couldn't get through the door, so he had broken a window instead. It made perfect sense to him.

"Mary Ann! Open the GOD! DAMN! DOOR!"

Mary Ann raced to obey. In the back of her mind, she knew that she should be moving in the opposite direction, but if only he would get sober again, this would never be a problem. He had never hit her before they were married. Not once. It was only after their nuptials, after she'd had Mary. He had gone off with that friend of his one night – Royce something or other – to "celebrate". Since then, he'd gone out every morning as Frank Brandon, the man she loved, and come back this… monster… drunk and ever eager to cause pain.

From her spot on the floor, Mary heard a lot of things. She heard crashes and bangs and lots and lots of screaming. Mary's mommy was crying so loud, it hurt Mary's head to listen to it. She cried and cried for her mommy, wishing she hadn't said the word, wishing she hadn't made her. It was all Mary's fault that this was happening; she knew it. Mommy was protecting her from that bad man, Frank, and he was hurting her. He was making her cry, and it was all Mary's fault.

But she did as Mommy had told her to do. She stayed hidden. She stayed quiet. She pretended to be a super secret spy, like on TV. She pretended to be a bug on a rug, a flower, a statue, any number of things she knew that stayed still and quiet.

Mary heard a scream so loud, she had to move to cover ears. She hoped the bad man wouldn't notice. When Mommy was finished screaming, it was completely silent. Mommy was gone, Mary thought. Mommy was hurt by the bad man, and she was never coming back, and it was all Mary's fault.

Mary began to cry, but was careful not to breathe too much. The bad man was still out there. Where was her daddy? Mary thought. Why wasn't he here to save them? Daddies fixed things, Mary knew because she'd seen it in the movies. Daddies loved their Mommies and their daughters, and protected them fiercely. When Daddy came home, he would chase away the bad man, save Mommy, and find Mary in her hidey-hole, and then they would all live happily ever after. Everybody had to fight a bad man or a wicked witch at some time or another, but they always lived happily ever after. Mommy said so.

"Get up!" The bad man screamed. "I said get the fuck up, bitch! Ah… who needs ya? I got another lil toy 'round 'ere someplace."

Mary heard the bad man walk past her and into the bedroom, crashing and banging into things as he went. Doors and drawers were slammed as she listened, waiting to see what the bad man wanted – although she knew. There was only one reason for him to still be there, the reason he had come in the first place.

"Mary," he called. "Where are you, you little shit?"

Mary did not answer. Even if she'd wanted to, she probably couldn't. There were no words in the grown-up world for the amount of fear that she was feeling, and so the toddler truly had no hope of expressing herself. But then, the voice changed.

"Mary, it's your daddy. Please come out and play?"

The relief of hearing her father's voice almost proved too much. Mary almost answered. But then she remembered the bad man. He was still out there. Why hadn't her daddy seen him?

"You have until I count to three to come out, or I will beat the ever-loving shit out of you! Do you hear me, Mary?" It was the bad man. He had almost tricked her. He had almost made her believe that he was her daddy come to play. She was even more terrified than ever knowing that he had the power to do that.

"She's… she's not here." That had been her mommy, Mary was sure of it.

"What d'ya mean, she's not fucking here?" Frank rounded on Mary Ann. He had thought he'd knocked her unconscious. He would have to do better next time. "Where would she go? She's a baby for chrissakes, and you ain't got no fuckin' family."

"I gave her up," said Mary Ann. "At the fire station."

The look on Frank's face said that he wasn't buying it, so she embellished. She only prayed that God – and Mary – would someday forgive her.

"She was gettin' in the way, baby. Everything was fine until that brat came along. I miss you, baby. I miss being your woman. I miss thinking of you and only you." Mary Ann sobbed angrily, trying to sell it as hatred of her own daughter, which only fueled her hatred of herself.

"It was good, wasn't it?" Frank's alcohol-tainted mind had moved on from anger and was now piecing together memories of their pre-child life. He'd never have to worry if he was making enough then. He had never had to work late. He'd never come home to a quiet house and no dinner before the little shit was born.

Reading his expression, Mary Ann pushed him farther down that track – the track that led away from hurting Mary. "Remember how I used to be waiting for you right here?" She tried to sit up, but her leg was broken. She knew Frank wouldn't care though, and for now, neither would she. "I used to stand here in nothing but my lingerie so that I could greet you properly when you got home from work, remember? And when we were done, dinner was ready, and I would serve you… naked."

Frank's eyes had become hooded as he licked his lips. Yeah, he remembered.

"We would go all night without a care in the world. No one was there to hear us, or stop us. There were no distractions. Mary was a distraction. I got rid of her. Now we can go back to how it was, to how it's supposed to be."

He moved so that he was standing over her, rubbing his dick through his jeans. The sight disgusted Mary Ann. She knew then that she would leave him. She would suck him off or let him fuck her, whatever he wanted, then, as soon as he was asleep, she would grab Mary and make a run for it.

"Tell me you're sorry," he commanded. "Beg for my forgiveness."

"I'm so sorry, baby," Mary Anne started. "I never meant to neglect you. I-"

"Show me, baby," he breathed, palming his erection. "Make me believe it. Let me know that I'm the only one you care about."

oOoOo

Mary listened while her mommy said the most horrible things; it seemed to go on for hours. Her mommy didn't love her. Her mommy never wanted her. Her mommy wished she was never born. And when she was done, the bad man would tell her to say it all again. When Mommy wasn't talking, she was crying, and whenever she would cry, the bad man would hit her.

Mary heard so much slapping and screaming, but sometimes, she thought, her mommy would fight back. The man would make such horrible sounds: gurgles and moans like he was getting sick and couldn't breathe. Finally, the bad man screamed. Mary hoped he was dying. She hoped he died and went away and never came back. She hoped he fell in a hole like the Evil Queen or that her daddy would come and slay him like a dragon.

But when he was done screaming, the bad man started talking. "Fuck, that was good, baby," he said. He always used the bad words. "But ya know what would make it better?"

"What, baby, what?" Mommy said. "Anything to make it better."

There was a loud crash, but no scream. Mary was scared.

"This'll be so much better without all your fucking whimpering," the bad man said, and then he started getting sick again. Mommy didn't talk this time. Mommy had left her alone.

Mary eventually fell asleep, dreaming horrible dreams about her daddy coming to find her, but she was stuck on the top of a tower. Then the bad man came and threw up on her, and her mommy said she was too dirty now and she didn't want her anymore. Then her mommy died.

When she woke up again, the house was quiet. She wanted to call out for her mommy, but she didn't think that she was there. And where was the bad man? No, she should stay quiet and still until Mommy came back for her.

oOoOo

Mary's tummy started to rumble. She hoped he wouldn't hear it. Mommy was gone a long time. She wanted her daddy to save her. Where was he?

oOoOo

There were lots of loud noises. Sirens and people yelling.

"I've got a pulse!" said a man.

"She's fading fast!" said another.

"They have a baby!" screamed a woman. Mary thought it sounded like Mrs. Nathan from next door. She always gave good candy. Mary wanted to call out to her, to tell her she wanted to be saved, but she remembered what her Mommy said. Super secret spy.

"Mary!" Mrs. Nathan called. "Mary!"

"Ma'am, you have to wait outside. There's no sign of a baby."

"She's two," Mrs. Nathan insisted. "Mary! You have to come out. These men are here to help, Mary."

"You can't be here, ma'am. Please step outside. Marcus! Neighbor says there's a two-year-old child. Clear the building before you leave."

The sirens went away, but one man remained. He called out for Mary. He said he was her friend. He said he wanted to play with her. Mary had heard all this before. When he rattled her door, Mary nearly screamed. No one but Mommy knew the super secret hideout.

"What's this little door here?" he called out.

"The crawl space," Mrs. Nathan answered. "Three by three cube with a dirt floor. Mary could never get in there; they always keep it locked."

"Looks like she's not here. Lucky thing, too. Poor kid." There was a crackle, and the man spoke in a louder, scarier voice. "Twenty-One to dispatch. House is clear. Toddler MIA. Checking with the neighbors."

There was another crackle and another voice answered. "Copy, Twenty-One. Stand-by for update."

"Copy."

"You're sure?" Mrs. Nathan asked.

"Ma'am, there's no one here. You did a good thing here today. I'll make sure you're notified when she's found."

After that there was no noise. No Mommy. No bad man. No nothing.

Mary listened. Mary slept. Mary wished she could be eating.

One time, Mary fell asleep and didn't wake back up.

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><p><strong>You already know she gets a happy ending, right? So please, please don't kill me. The next part will be MaryAlice's rescue and introduction to the Cullens. So... not exactly bright and shiny, but at least good things will happen. If you have a sad that won't go away, re-read the beginning of the one-shot. See that adorable little fae-ling? Yeah, it's gonna be okay.**

**Obviously, no beta was used in the making of this outtake. But let me know what you think, eh? **

**Talk at ya soon! **

**~Lex**


	2. Part Two:  Edward

**There will be one more chapter after this, so hang tight.**

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><p>It was by sheer coincidence that Edward Cullen witnessed Mary Ann Brandon's arrival at Chicago Memorial. One of the ER nurses, Jessica, had invited him to breakfast at the end of a long overnight shift, and Edward had been waiting at the nurses station, wondering what was keeping her (as she had always made it a point to be overly available to him in the past), and passing the time with Kate, Jessica's friend and co-worker.<p>

"Good morning, Dr. Cullen."

"Please, Kate, just Edward. You've seen me naked for God's sake."

"Not a fact I would advertise; and anyway, it was an accident," Kate said defensively, not looking up from her coffee cup.

"You accidentally walked into the mens room thirty seconds after me?"

"I- Okay, fine. You were new and hot and we were all curious, but now we know you and it's just gross, so can we not talk about it anymore?"

Edward pouted. "Jessica doesn't think I'm gross."

"No, she doesn't. But we both know you don't care. In fact, I'd bet the only reason you want me to think you're cute is because I have Garrett now. I'm not a threat."

"Not a threat," Edward scoffed. "Like the time you zapped me with the paddles?"

"Okay, now that _was _an accident."

"You seem to have a lot of accidents around me. Am I really that distracting?" Edward turned his best gooey eyes to his friend, who seemed flustered, but recovered quickly.

Kate was just about to respond, with something snappy and sarcastic no doubt, when Jessica rushed past them without sparing a glance. She had gotten a call, which explained her absence, but Edward still thought she could have paged him. He had not only wasted ten minutes of sleep just standing there, but now he would have to wait for this patient to clear the doors before he could leave, lest he should get in the way.

Now, Edward was no stranger to the emergency room, and he had seen his fair share of abuse victims, but that never made it any easier. The woman they brought in was badly beaten: broken leg, broken ribs, and had obviously had her head smashed in. She was barely breathing, let alone conscious.

Edward watched and listened, unable to stop himself, as they rushed her past. Blunt force trauma, punctured lung, internal bleeding… they had had to re-start her heart twice on the ride over. By all rights, the woman should have been dead already. She would be lucky to survive the night, and pulling through without permanent disability would be downright miraculous.

"Dr. Cullen!" yelled Kate, tearing his attention from the corner her cart had disappeared around. "You should go get some sleep. Jessica's not going anywhere. You can shut her down tomorrow morning."

Edward tried to laugh with her, but it came out as more of a cough. He nodded and walked out the door; if the patient managed to hang on, he would likely be called upon to assess her neurological health, and he wanted to be well-rested.

oOoOo

"Permanent damage, here, here, and here," said Dr. Patel, pointing to various spots on the negative image of a brain. "It's likely she'll never regain coherent speech. Probably be eating through a tube for the rest of her life, which won't be long, judging from her test results. Best make her comfortable, kid."

People like Dr. Patel were one of the many reasons Edward had become a neurologist: he hated them. They were all very smart, very smug people who always knew what they were doing, always knew best, and never yielded to anyone. Because the brain is most arguably the thing that makes a person who they are, neurologists tended to think that they had the most important job on the planet—and each and every one of them thought that he or she was best at it.

It was times such as these, with doctors like Patel, that Edward really shined.

"Actually," he started, clearing his throat for good measure. "I believe that this one here"-he pointed to the first damage sight- "is just left of vital. And this"-he pointed again- "seems only to be a surface lesion and will likely heal entirely with time. I do agree, however, that she'll have to endure speech problems and assisted living for a time, though that's mostly due to the fact that her trachea was nearly crushed, which has nothing to do with us, so we really shouldn't focus on it."

Dr. Patel gaped for a moment, then let out an undignified snort. "Son, I've been doing this for nearly forty years, and I say she'll be lucky if she wakes up a vegetable. I understand that you've made some sort of name for yourself in comas—sketchy field, mostly luck—but you're in my house now."

"Yes, sir," Edward said. "We'll see."

"Yes, we will." Appeased, Dr. Patel went back to his regular patients, leaving the latest and, in his opinion, most hopeless case to the new guy.

Three hours later, Edward was back in Dr. Patel's office, Mrs. Brandon's latest test results in hand. Needless to say, one of them was about to be severely disappointed.

"Whaddya' got, sport?" Dr. Patel asked with laughter in his voice.

Well, Edward thought as they went over the chart together, there had to be worse things than being wrong. Sure, he might feel like a fool in front of his colleagues, but he was certain Dr. Patel would recover. After all, wasn't losing face better than losing a patient? From the look on the elder's face, maybe not.

"Well, this looks… promising," said Dr. Patel, swallowing hard.

Edward nodded. "Yes, sir. I'd like to wake her up tomorrow. The sooner she speaks with the police, the better off she'll be, and we'll need to test her cognition before then."

"Quite right, Dr. Cullen. Quite right."

oOoOo

Through a series of nods, head shakes, and half-hearted hand signals, Mrs. Brandon was able to communicate the basics of what had happened to the police. Her husband had beaten her to bloody pulp for no reason other than that he could. She would have to make an official statement as soon as they were able to remove all of the tubes from her throat, but it was enough to put out a warrant for Frank Brandon's arrest.

Mary Ann remained calm throughout the proceedings, resigned almost. She listened first while all of her doctors went over everything he had done to her and what that meant. Then the police came, and she was forced to re-live the night through their questions. Edward nearly cried for her, his hardened professional facade saving him that embarrassment. She passed out halfway through questioning, unable to hold onto consciousness any longer. Edward felt she had done quite well under the circumstances.

As they left, one of the cops pulled him aside. He couldn't have been a minute over eighteen, and Edward wondered how he had managed to become an officer so quickly.

"Strictly speaking, Dr. Cullen, this conversation won't have taken place."

Edward nodded his agreement, worried what the boy might have to tell him.

"You see, I'm a little worried here. I need help. The other guys…they're strictly by the book—no heart, no conviction—and I'm sick of watching people suffer because we're doing what we're _supposed _to. I know you know what I mean."

And Edward _did _know. He knew what it was like to have to turn someone away because they had a job with no benefits, because he wasn't allowed to make decisions, because it was standard protocol not to act until it was almost too late. They suffered, all of them, needlessly.

The officer watched Edward's face carefully, saying finally. "I knew I'd found a brother in you."

"What can I do?" asked Edward.

"There's a girl," he said, gesturing toward the unconscious woman. "A daughter. Just turned three. Totally helpless, and no one knows where she is. The neighbor says she never leaves the house."

"Doesn't she have family or…" Edward trailed off as the officer shook his head.

"There's no one. The house was swept by some lazy asshole who never even brought in a dog. James and his_ I can find anything _bullshit… Anyway, there's no evidence. We're working under the assumption that she was abducted by the father."

Edward contemplated that for a moment: A three-year-old girl, kidnapped by the man who had almost killed her mother. It was a depressing thought.

"But we need to know," the officer continued forcefully. "The Amber Alert is out, but if she's not with him, if she's out on her own or still in the house…"—he ran his hands through his wild blonde hair— "The minute she's conscious again, you need to ask her. Call, but don't wait for us to get here. Just find out if she knows where the girl is and tell whoever shows that she brought it up on her own."

Edward nodded. "I'll call," he promised. "I'll call you directly, Officer…"

"Whitlock," he said, offering his hand. "Jasper Whitlock."

oOoOo

Fourteen hours went by. Edward was well off his shift, but he hadn't left Mary Anne's side. She might wake up at any moment, and where would he be? Safely at home while a three-year-old suffered? He didn't think so.

And there was no way he would pass along Jasper's request to someone to else. Edward felt as though he had been hand-chosen by Officer Whitlock, and to turn his back on this would be to turn his back on the girl, and to take the one man who would damn the rules to save her and throw him under the bus.

Again, not likely.

He suffered the agony of hospital paste (they called them "mashed potatoes") and a thick, mud-like sludge ("coffee") because it was the only thing the nurse would bring him, and he was afraid to leave. If she woke while he was away, they would probably sedate her. She had too much healing to do, too much pain to deal with. It would be the most humane thing, to help her sleep through it. But this was more important. Edward would endure a lifetime of whatever Nurse Clearwater thought to bring him if he had to.

Around one, the shift changed, and Nurse Weber brought him a cheeseburger. Unlike her predecessor, she didn't stop to ask Edward what he was doing every fifteen minutes, assert she was not his waitress, or try to make him go to the on-call room and "get the hell out of her way." Angela just smiled softly, sympathetically, and worked around him as needed. He understood now why Ben had always harbored affection for her.

Whenever Edward brought it up, Ben had always protested that nurses hated doctors, especially surgeons. Edward didn't bother to inform him that it was the members of his own profession that most nurses hated on principal. Although, considering their attitudes, it may have gone without saying. But surgeons also tended to be cocky and domineering, and the nurses tended to not like being told they were "good little helpers". Of course, Edward knew that Ben had never said, nor would he ever say, such a thing. Nurses were the backbone holding the hospital upright; every good doctor knew that.

But Ben was stubborn, and he wouldn't take "It worked on Scrubs" as an answer, either. He had divided the classes, placing hurdles that didn't exist. Ben was not a cocky asshole, and Angela was quite clearly not a prideful, bitter harpy. Hell, if she would bring a neurologist a cheeseburger without comment she was probably a saint. Edward would definitely have to fix them up some time.

The cheeseburger came with fries, and Edward thought briefly about telling Ben to go to Hell; he would marry Angela himself. But as the delicious smell of deep-fried potato product wafted out of the bag, two things happened: Edward's stomach rumbled, which wasn't altogether surprising, and Angela gasped. At first, he had thought it was her surprise at his extreme hunger, but what could she expect with the orderlies gone and no one but Leah to turn to?

Then he saw what had _really _caught her attention: Mary Anne's eyes were open.

"Nurse!" Edward barked out without properly thinking. "I mean, Angela… Would you please call this number and ask for Officer Whitlock? Inform him that the patient is awake and that I am seeing to her personally. Then, _after _you've spoken with him, please page the attending."

"After, Dr. Cullen?" Angela asked, flipping Jasper's card in her hand. She was not questioning his instructions, only clarifying.

"After," he confirmed.

The moment Angela had cleared the door, Edward rounded on the patient.

"Miss, do you know who you are?"

She nodded.

"Do you know _where _you are?"

She nodded again.

"Mrs. Brandon, where is your daughter?"

Mary Anne's heart rate soared, the monitor off the charts. Edward hastily silenced the alarm and placed a restraining arm across Mary Anne's torso. When she had found herself unable to speak, she had decided to start removing the tubing herself.

"Mrs. Brandon, you have to calm down," Edward told her. He was sure that Angela would ignore the alarm as long as possible, knowing he was in there, but soon she would have to come and his opportunity would be lost. "I'm going to remove the tubing, but you've got to calm down. If the other doctors see you like this they're going to sedate you again, and by the time you wake up, it may be too late."

Mary Anne nodded frantically, keeping her body as stiff and still as possible. There was nothing to be done for her racing pulse or the mixture of snot and tears she was now drowning in. Not now that she remembered her baby. Edward allowed himself to pity her for a moment as he removed the tracheal tubes. It was only temporary, but still ill-advised. She would need to be intubated again right away.

He would make his excuses when he had to. For now, he had a child to save.

"Cl—Closet," she gasped out immediately. "Un— Derstairs— Locked!" she cried. "Locked in!"

"Dr. Cullen, what is the meaning of this?" Eric "Rejected-By-Every-Nurse-To-Cross-His-Path" Yorkie was there to save the day.

"She—" Edward started, but Yorkie would not allow it.

"Why are you here? What have you done to this patient? Why aren't you allowing my nurses to do their jobs?"

Angela, who had rushed in with Eric and immediately set to the task of sedating Mrs. Brandon, looked up, dumbfounded at being referred to as _his _nurse. She made a noise halfway between confusion and disgust before turning to Edward.

"Officer Whitlock is waiting downstairs," she told him, then turned toward Eric. "Are you going to intubate or what?"

At the mention of Jasper, Edward remembered his assignment. It had only been two days; they might still have time. But they had to go now, and he wanted to be there. He fled down the stairs with ungodly speed, cheeseburger cold and forgotten.

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><p><strong>Hangin' in there, loves?<strong>

**P.S. This was unbeta'd. Feel free to point out any major mistakes. I will most likely fix them.**


	3. The Waiting Place

**So.. Long time, no see, eh? I won't be posting this onto Slumbering Swan until the entire story is finished. I mean, having a three part Alice outtake for a E/B OS is bad enough, but to keep updating it as it comes.. in short little chapter-ettes? Yeah, my bad. Still, it works as a tiny chapter for this posting so... enjoy.. all... two of you that read this.**

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><p>Mary was having a dream. A very good dream. She felt very safe and warm, but she knew she was only in The Waiting Place – the place people go when they don't know where they're supposed to be, or just aren't ready to be there yet. There were a lot of sad people in The Waiting Place, but a lot of happy ones too. It seemed to Mary that everyone saw The Waiting Place differently.<p>

There were a lot of babies there, most of them slightly depressed. They were waiting for school, and while they knew it would be fun to learn new things and meet new people, they also knew that it would grow tiresome after a while and they would be counting the minutes to come Home and play. It was also incredibly tedious to be a baby, so Mary had been told.

"You can't do anything for yourself," one of them had said. "You know everything, but can't tell anyone, and then you start to forget. By the time you figure out how to use your body again, your brain has turned to mush and you can't even remember what you're there for."

Mary's mommy had had a similar experience at the grocery store, she'd confided. "She went in for milk, but got so distracted by vegetables that she forgot to bring it home."

The baby had nodded sagely at Mary's metaphor, neither of them finding it odd that they knew what a metaphor was, that the fact they were conversing at all would be scoffed at by most.

"Life is like that," the baby had said. "You go in to learn how to be a better person and get so distracted by all there is to do that sometimes you come out worse! And then you're back Home, and you remember… and you've failed."

"No," Mary had argued. "I think it's part of the learning. You do the wrong things, and then you find out they're wrong and you don't want to do them again. I didn't understand what hot was until I broke the rules and touched the stove. I'll never do it again. I learned."

"You're pretty smart for a three-year-old. You still remember a lot."

"I do," Mary nodded. "But I'm already forgetting. I remember the important things, but I can't explain them. When I'm here, in The Waiting Place, it's clearer, but I still have to relate them to my current life. I can't remember anything before Mary was born, and I don't remember what I've planned to do until she dies, but I remember that I know that Life is worth living."

The nameless baby had been her favorite conversation in The Waiting Place, and one she would remember for years to come – even when the details had blurred beyond recognition – but Mary did speak to others.

One man was crying an endless mourning sorrow for the ones he'd left behind. Mary tried to tell him that the time would go by so much faster if he would just go Home and wait for them, but he was adamant that he should stay where he was. Mary pitied him his ignorance. His family would surely have wished him peace and happiness for a blink than misery for years. She was certain he would be properly chastised when the first of his loved ones passed through.

There was a woman she called Joy who laughed and carried on to anyone who would join her. She was positively thrilled to see that there was such a thing as a Waiting Place. She couldn't wait to go back and tell everyone she knew everything she'd learned here. She held Mary and cuddled her and told her what an amazing gift their lives would be as soon as they woke up again. Mary didn't know exactly why, but she knew the woman was right. If Mary made the right choices, the worst of her Life was over.

There was another man waiting to go Home, but he was afraid he wouldn't be allowed. He had done bad things. His Life had gone horribly wrong. He didn't deserve to go Home and he knew it. He was afraid of where else he might end up. Was there a place besides Life and Home? Was there somewhere he would be forced to pay for his mistakes? He couldn't remember, and Mary couldn't tell him because he wouldn't have believed it. There _was_ a place such as the one that he described; and he was the one keeping himself there.

If he had done something truly unforgivable, the man wouldn't be in The Waiting Place. He would have been thrust back into Life immediately to try and try again. Not because he had to, but because he would have chosen it without thought. He had the option to go Home now, to get some peace and rest, but his regret was holding him back. He didn't know if he deserved to rest until he had gone back and made amends for what he'd done.

Did he belong at Home with his friends and family?

Or should he go back to Life and prove that he had learned his lesson?

He didn't know.

The Waiting Place was where he would be until he made his choice, until he realized that no one could make that decision for him.

All told, thousands waited in The Waiting Place. Men and women, girls and boys, even some dogs and cats. Some were waiting for Life, others waited to go Home, and then there were those who were waiting to remember what it was they were waiting for. Mary prayed for them most of all.

Mary's mommy was there sometimes too, though Mary never had the chance to talk to her. They would see each other from across the space, and though they each knew it would be effortless to come together, neither made that move. One because she was ashamed of the part she'd played in her daughter's Life and was afraid to seek forgiveness, the other because she didn't want to be asked. As far as Mary was concerned, there was nothing to forgive; her mommy had done exactly what she was meant to do. She wasn't sure how she knew that, but she did.

One day Mary's mommy would remember. She would remember that Life wasn't meant to be easy, that she had made many mistakes, but none of them were unforgivable. She would know that she had done the right things when they'd mattered most, and she wouldn't regret one single fumble.

One day Mary's mommy would find her way Home, where she would wait for Mary, and they would congratulate one another on a Life well done.

For now though, Mary waited. She was waiting for Life, she knew that. She was was waiting for someone to save her from the dark. She couldn't remember why it was dark, or who was going to save her. She knew that she knew, but she couldn't remember. It was frustrating.

"Help me remember," she asked no one in particular, though she knew that someone was listening. "Please give me something. Maybe not now, but when I go back, help me to remember why I even bothered.

"It's easy when I'm here," she told that invisible someone. "When I see that there's a Home and a Waiting Place and people getting ready for Life. It's easy for me _now_ to say my Life will be worth living. But what will I do when I get there? When I'm not looking at Mommy and _knowing_ she's done the right thing? I'm going to forget everything when I get back, and I'm afraid I won't be able to make the right choices. I'm afraid I'll get distracted by Mary's terrible beginnings and ruin the middle and end. I know I'm not supposed to, but help me remember, please."

The plea hung in the air around her, stifling and thick. It wasn't a simple request, and she hardly expected a response. Mary sat and waited for quite some time after that. At least, she thought so. There wasn't a clock on the wall, or a sun, or stars, no tools to measure such a trivial thing. But she had found herself a rather comfortable looking chair and began counting the number of stripes in its armrest. She had gotten quite far, though she had the sneaking suspicion that more were adding themselves as she went, just to give her something to do. Finally, a breath on the back of her neck signaled the approach of the person who never was.

"It's time," the body-less voice whispered into her ear. "And this is the best I can give you."

Then Mary saw a man. He wasn't there in front of her, or breathing on her neck, but he was as real as any of that – or more so. Blonde and blue-eyed, he was quite a bit older than she, and his entire right side was covered in scar tissue. Something inside of him was broken, suffering. She could see it in his eyes, how his soul wrestled with itself, writhing with pain. Yet he was beautiful. Mary loved him. With every fiber of her timeless being, Mary yearned to be with this man.

She would find him.

She would fix him.

She would marry him.

"Jasper,"someone said into the newly onset darkness. It may have been Mary herself, or the voice, or someone else entirely – Mary never figured it out – but it was the last she remembered of The Waiting Place.

* * *

><p><strong>*cough* I have NO IDEA where that came from. She was supposed to dream about Jasper, then wake up to what you heard about in Slumbering Swan.. that's it! But then she was all, "I was at The Waiting Place, Alexis. Duh! You can' skip it, silly!" So there it is.<strong>

**Side note, I don't actually hear voices in my head... just thought you should know. lol Although, the story did sort of write itself. It's kinda scary when that happens.**


	4. Part Three: Goodbye Mary

**As far as I know, there is but one person awaiting the completion of this tale.**

**Xxdarkness-angelxX, this is for you. It's still not done. I was _totally _prepared to finish it tonight, but she ran away from me. Again. I kept on writing, hoping I'd get it done, but then I looked up and realized I was about to turn into a pumpkin. I'm really, truly sorry.**

**Next time, Gadget. Next time!**

* * *

><p>Edward spotted Jasper in the waiting room – he looked even younger in his street clothes – and the two ran out the door without a word. Edward automatically ran toward his own car, but stopped abruptly halfway across the lot.<p>

"What's wrong?" Jasper asked him.

"We better take your car, so we can cut through traffic."

"No, we'll take yours. I was already in the family car when you called, and it sure as hell ain't no Vanquish." Jasper's tone was even and authoritative, leaving little room for suspicion.

And yet, Edward wondered… especially when the officer took the passenger seat.

"Which house?" he asked when they were close.

"That one. The blue." Jasper was out of the car before it had even stopped rolling, running up the ruinous brick steps and breaking down the door. "I've already called for backup!" he shouted, "But we can't wait that long!"

"Jasper…" Edward tried, but the kid was hard of hearing. "Officer Whitlock!" But Jasper continued to slam his shoulder into the door again and again.

"JASPER!" Finally, he stopped and took a look at Edward.

"What?"

Edward held up a little silver trinket. "I have the key."

"Oh…" he panted. "Good work."

Edward opened the door quickly, calling out that he was entering the house. He doubted anyone was inside, but didn't particularly want to get shot, either. A small portion of Edward's brain wondered why Jasper hadn't announced their presence. Wasn't that standard protocol or something? Come to that, what was with the trying to force open a door? Surely he, as a police officer, had more efficient means of entering a home uninvited than a bruised shoulder and brute force.

Questions ran rampant in Edward's mind while they searched the house for the secret cupboard, until finally he had to ask, "How old are you, _Officer _Whitlock?"

"Twenty-two," Jasper answered quickly. Too quickly. Edward shrugged and let it go. They had bigger problems.

"Here!" Jasper shouted suddenly, throwing a decorative table out of the way. He didn't seem too worried about collateral damage… maybe he _was _a Chicago police officer. "Gimme the keys… Give me the keys!"

Edward handed over Mary Anne's key chain, but it was immediately clear that none of them would fit. It was an old-fashioned lock that had apparently been taped or boarded shut on the inside so no one could see in.

_Or so Mary couldn't see what was going on in the living room. _Edward shuddered at the thought.

"Mary!" he called, feeling incredibly stupid for not having done so before now. "Mary, are you in there? My name is Edward Cullen, and I'm a doctor."

No answer.

"Your mother is at my hospital, Mary. She's sick and she needs y- Ow!"

"Way to scare her, dickhead," Jasper muttered under his breath.

"If it gets her to frickin' answer me," he stage-whispered back, rubbing his newly bruised arm.

"Mary, we're your friends! We want to help you!" Jasper tried.

"I'm sure she's never heard _that_ one before," Edward mumbled, earning himself another punch. "She must be unconscious," he concluded, ignoring Jasper in favor of becoming Doctor Cullen. Doctor Cullen saved lives a lot faster than Annoyed Edward. And this was a life he would save, he wouldn't entertain any other possibility. "Jasper, I need you to find a safer means of opening this door than your shoulder, got it?"

Jasper nodded and went in search of the fireplace poker he had spotted in a cluttered closet off the front room. Come to think of it, there were a lot of things in there they could probably use to pry with. By the time he returned, Edward had his medical kit prepared and was waiting patiently to use it, professional facade in place.

Jasper didn't waste any time digging the poker into the wall, prying the door right off its hinges. It was an old house, and he had probably used more force than necessary, but Edward understood; there was a young life at stake.

When the dust cleared and Edward could finally see, he couldn't hide his gasp. The space was so small… and dirty… and just… How could anyone do this to a child? How could Mary Anne Brandon have subjected her daughter to existing in this… hole, just to stay with her husband? It made Edward sick. Then again, he had never been a battered wife.

He allowed himself that split second of reaction and immediately regretted it; it was a split second too long. Turning on his flashlight, he very carefully moved himself over Mary's lifeless body into the space. It was a mess. She had been wearing the same diaper for three days, maybe longer, and the size of the cupboard left him within inches of excrement every which way.

Ignoring this, Edward reached to evaluate his patient. Her skin was porcelain, untouched, unfound by her father. If she was alive, he could likely move her without consequence… _if_ she was alive.

Tentatively, he reached for her tiny neck. It took him a moment, in his dread, to find the practiced ease he was used to, and in that moment he panicked. But then he felt it: a pulse. It was faint, and it was slowing, but it was present. That, he could work with.

"Move back!" he yelled to Jasper, gently lifting the baby from her own filth. He leaned down toward Mary's mouth, but Mary wasn't breathing. They had gotten to her just in time. He hoped. Edward started modified CPR immediately. "You called 911?" He looked to Jasper pointedly.

"Yes!" He answered, then re-thought. "I mean... I called it in on the-"

"Forget that!" Edward barked impatiently. "Did you really call?"

"Of course," Jasper looked scandalized for a moment, but Edward couldn't be bothered. So long as help was really coming, he didn't care about Jasper's feelings.

"Twenty- Fucking- Two," Edward muttered in time with his compressions. He worked on her and worked on her, and still she wasn't breathing. Minutes had gone by, hours, quite possibly. Where was the ambulance? Where was his backup?

He checked her pulse. Non-existent.

"Oh hell no," he said aloud to no one in particular.

"Edward," Jasper hedged. "Edward, I think."

"NO!"

"It's been almost five minutes, and I think I hear sirens."

"Good!"

"The thing is, I'm not actually suppos-"

"Go then!" Edward yelled, leaning down to administer breaths. "You found the girl and brought a doctor, your part in this is over."

Jasper dithered near the back door, looking sadly down at Mary's unconscious body. "I really thought…" he started, but couldn't find it in him to finish.

"I'll cover for you, just go!" Edward could hear the sirens now too, and it gave him the oddest feeling of doom. Like if Mary wasn't awake by the time the sirens stopped, she never would be again.

"Edward, I-"

"Goodbye, Jasper!" Edward yelled, leaning down again, but screamed out an obscenity when he was met with open eyes. "Mary? Mary, can you hear me?"

"Mary?" Jasper was back, not having gone very far, peering over Edward's shoulder into the dull but conscious eyes of a very lucky three-year-old.

"Jas-per…" she said, apparently repeating Edward's word, the first she had heard upon waking. And yet, both men couldn't help but notice that she held Jasper's stare as she did so.

oOoOo

Edward made his statement to the police, claiming to have been told where to find Mary by her mother, of her own free will and called 911 himself.

"But I couldn't just wait around, ya know?" he told the officers. "I knew where she was, and I knew I could get there faster, so I went, and I'm incredibly glad that I did."

He was happy they'd bought it, and even happier when they didn't investigate further; he hadn't had time to warn Angela yet. He anticipated being brought in front of the medical board for questioning, but knew they couldn't touch him. Edward's first duty as a doctor was to save lives, and with the express verbal consent of the home owner and mother of the child in question (which she could confirm as soon as she was once again conscious), he had done his job.

Jasper evaded all questions. In fact, Jasper sort of disappeared into the shadows after leaving the Brandon's kitchen. Edward asked around, but no one he knew had ever heard of a Jasper, let alone a Jasper Whitlock. Edward toyed with the idea that Jasper was an angel, sent to save Mary's life, then move on. He immediately dismissed the notion as foolish and vowed to see him again some day. How he'd manage it, he didn't know, but it felt an attainable goal.

A few days passed, and things settled down some. Edward visited the pediatric wing often to check on Mary's progress. She was still unconscious, but it was mostly pharmaceutical causes now. Mary had been dirty, dehydrated, starved, and generally unable to sustain her own life any longer. If it had been winter and she'd been stuck in that crawl space…

Edward refused to consider it.

Mary Ann was the first to wake. Her throat had healed enough that she was able to breathe on her own, though she still received the bulk of her nutrients through various tubes. Had she tried to swallow so much as a mashed potato in her condition, it would have meant agony. Speech came slowly – she had to force out each word – but the doctors encouraged her to work up to it, slowly.

One afternoon, though his time with her had passed, Edward went to Mary Ann, as he had each day since her daughter was found, to update her on Mary's condition. He looked forward to their talks almost as much as she seemed to. Every day, she would flesh out a little more of their story for him, everything that had led to this hospital bed. He especially enjoyed the tales of young Alice. Barely three, and she was already one of the most outrageous personalities he'd never encountered.

"Dr. Cullen." Mary Ann's greeting smile was lazy and drugged, but ever-present where Edward was concerned.

"Edward, please," he corrected, though he knew she wouldn't listen. He went on to give a full report of Mary's recovery, which was looking better all the time.

She would be awake soon, and most likely out of bed. At her age, strength would return quickly – especially once she started eating solid foods – and it was extremely difficult to convince a small child that, though they _felt _well, they shouldn't be running around just yet. Sugar would be banned until she was fully rehabilitated.

"If all goes well," Edward concluded, "you'll be able to see your daughter's smiling face day after tomorrow."

At this, Mary Ann began to cry. Edward assumed they were happy tears until she let out a wail and began to sob uncontrollably. His hand was inches from the call button when she finally spoke.

"I can't," she said with vigor. "I can't see her after what I've done."

Edward patted Mary Ann on the hand, completely at a loss. "I can understand how this might be difficult for you, but you're not at fault here, Mrs. Brandon."

"_Don't_ use that name! It's _his_ name."

"All right, Mary Ann," Edward amended. "It's not your fault. You were doing what was best for Mary and, unfortunately, things went further than expected. Much, much further than they'd ever gone before. You had no way of anticipating this, of preventing it. The fact that you're still alive is nothing short of a miracle, and I have to believe that you pulled through on purpose, to save your daughter's life.

"And you did, you know. You saved her. First by keeping her out of harms way, and then by staying alive to help us find her."

"_You _saved her," Mary Ann argued. "_I _put her in danger. I stayed. I wasn't strong enough for her. I should have left. For her."

She went into a coughing fit after that – her vocal chords had reached their limit – and Edward called the nurse to sedate her before she caused permanent damage.

oOoOo

It was very early in the morning, or perhaps very late at night, when Edward got the call.

"Dr. Cullen?" A panicked voice stage whispered into the phone.

"Angela?" he replied, sleepily.

"Dr. Cullen… Edward… Can you—"

_FIND HIM! _Someone yelled in the background. _GET ME CULLEN!_

"Who was that?" Edward asked, suddenly alert. At that moment his pager went off, telling him that he was required urgently at the hospital, though he wasn't on call.

"Caius," she answered simply.

The hospital administrator was screaming for him in the middle of the night on his day off. Edward had a bad feeling about this.

"I'll be right in," he said, despite his better judgment.

It took fifteen minutes to arrive at the hospital. For fifteen minutes he envisioned everything from an arrest warrant to a dead patient. He sincerely hoped it wasn't the latter, but given his line of work, it was a real possibility.

There were no officers waiting with handcuffs when he walked through the door, and Edward let himself feel relief. And when no one gave him that look of pity, the one they gave when a doctor had done his best but still the patient had died, he allowed himself to hope. When he turned the corner into Caius' purple face, hope fled with relief just behind, leaving fear and confusion in their place.

"Would you care to explain?" Caius asked.

Edward, who had no idea what he was talking about, stayed silent.

"Come," Caius commanded and turned heel.

Edward caught up quickly and began to panic when he realized where they were headed: Mary's room. When they entered, there were the policemen he'd been waiting for, but none of them seemed all that interested in him. They were dusting for fingerprints and taking statements from the children in the room. Mary was nowhere to be found.

"She's gone," Caius said, seeming to address Edward's thoughts. "But she left this with the kid." He shoved a letter, written in perfectly elegant script, into Edward's hands. Mary could never have written this. And then he heard it, and though he'd only heard her speak once before, Edward knew it was Mary's voice.

"Knigh'!" she yelled, running out from where she'd been hidden from view by two somber looking officers. "Say me, knigh'. Say me."

_Save me, knight. Save me. _Edward heard clearly, though he wasn't sure everyone could. Had they been confused, Mary cleared things up for them by running directly into Edward's arms – which he had instinctively held open to her.

Caius raised a brow as Edward hefted her onto his hip, but said nothing. He pointed at Edward's free hand, still clutching the letter, and moved to speak with the officers who surveyed the scene with undisguised interest. One of them was scribbled furiously onto a pad he'd pulled from his breast pocket.

Edward moved to a chair in the corner of the room. Mary automatically adjusted herself so that she was laying on his chest, hugging his neck, and instantly fell asleep. With no other distractions, the letter was calling to him, and he raised it up to eye level, though he both feared and suspected what it might say.

_Dr. Cullen,  
><em>

_I am sorry. I never imagined that I would do something like this. Then again, I never imagined a lot of things for my life. But what I do now, I do for her and for her only. For years I have done what I thought was best for me and allowed my daughter to suffer for it. Caused her suffering with my own mouth and hands. She is better off without me._

_This world is better off without me._

_Selfish as I am, I do have some final requests: _

_She was born Mary Alice Brandon. Mary for her mother. Brandon for her father. Neither of us deserve this honor, just as she does not deserve to be named for filth such as we. Please remedy this._

_Do not speak of me in her presence. Should she ask, make her believe that I was but a figment of her imagination, a nightmare. When she asks for me, make her believe that I am not wanted. When she mourns for me, help her understand that I am not to be missed. Say what you must to make her let go. I do not wish for her to grow up knowing that I have abandoned her nor awaiting my return. It will never come._

_Darling Dr. Cullen – Sir Cullen, they should call you, for that is who you are: a knight in shining armor. My final wish is my dearest, and also the most burdensome. You saved her when I could not, and I pray that you will continue in that tradition. Do not abandon her as I have. Love her as you would your own. Raise her well (I know you will) and show her what a true family is. If you can not or will not accept this responsibility, I understand, but I am trusting you to find her a good home regardless. _

_Do not let her down._

_In return I promise that I will never come back for her. Whether it be with you – as I hope – or with another worthy soul, the family she finds now will be hers in every way that has meaning, and I will do nothing to disrupt that or call it into question. _

_She is yours now, Dr. Cullen. Edward. And I will be forever grateful for whatever part you play. You have already done too much._

_Eternally in your debt,_

_Mary Ann Brandon_

Edward read and re-read the letter Mary Ann wrote. It didn't make any sense. She wanted _him _to adopt her child? She expected _him _to raise her as his own? He was a bachelor. Even better, he was a doctor, a fairly green doctor. New doctors had very little time. There was an initiation of sorts, into the medical world, that included a lot of late nights and hard lessons learned.

A new, _single _doctor had even less freedom than most. In addition to the grunt work and spill-over patients, they were given the most inconvenient shifts, simply because everyone knew they had no family to go home to. Edward wasn't sure he could handle a healthy relationship right now, let alone single fatherhood. Until he could open his own practice, afford to set his own hours, Edward could not have a child. Not even one as sweet and beautiful as Mary.

It wouldn't be fair to her, he reasoned. She deserved more than he could give her. She deserved a family. She deserved a mother and father, a brother, like he'd had – a full support system already in place for whatever life threw at her.

Mary deserved… the Cullens.

Before he could even think that thought through, an officer with A. VOLTURI embroidered on his shirt stepped up to Edward for questioning. He spoke in a hushed whisper so as not to wake the child, but his tone was decidedly accusatory.

"How did you know Mary Ann Brandon?" he asked, almost angrily. "What is your relationship with this child? Has the father been in contact with you?"

On and on the questions went, interspersed with vague warnings like, "I know what you're thinking" and "You can't hide the truth." The longer he spoke, the wilder Officer Volturi's theories became. It was almost as if he _wanted _Edward to be at fault for something. Every now and then he would huff and look defeated, only to come up with some other crazy possibility.

"Do you own, or have you ever worn an angel costume?" he asked once, and Edward laughed in his face. He couldn't help it.

Despite their idiocy, Edward answered all of the questions as best he could, seeing no reason to lie. He barely knew the mother, and had had almost no contact with the child whatsoever. Frank Brandon was just a name he'd heard on the news; Mary Ann had never even mentioned it, as though it were taboo. Finally, Officer Volturi ran out of ridiculous questions and started giving Edward some answers.

"Mary tells us that an angel came to her in her sleep and told her that you, Dr. Edward Cullen, are her real father. That you were a knight, who had saved her, and planned to take her away to a magical castle where she would live with her real family, as a princess, for the rest of her life."

Edward gulped. Suddenly the costume question didn't seem so ridiculous. But, knowing what he did about Mary Ann and her daughter's preference for fairy tales, Edward had a good idea of what had happened. She had come to this room and spoken to Mary as she slept. She told her a story about Edward, one that would help her embrace her new life and let go of the old one. He told the officer as much.

"Yeah, that's what we figured, too," Officer Volturi said with a sigh.

"You did? But why-"

"Had to make sure we were right, didn't we?" He was much more relaxed now. "You coulda' been a pedophile, or a kidnapper. We got no proof yet that this letter was written by the woman. Mighta' been the father, mighta' been _you_. Can never be too careful with kids, ya know?"

Edward nodded absently.

"So…" the officer spoke after a moment, getting Edward's attention. "You gonna adopt the kid, or what?"

"I… You'd just _hand _her over to me?" Edward asked, slightly appalled.

"Course not. Just wonderin' if you'd try. Was her mother's last wish, after all." The officer motioned to the letter, now settled on Edward's lap. Only then did he realize that it was just a photocopy; the original was probably in an evidence bag.

"I don't think so," Edward said sadly. The officer looked shocked and… disappointed? "But I think I have a better idea."

* * *

><p><strong>I'm neither a medical or justice system expert. If something I say in this story makes absolutely no sense, please either suspend your disbelief or tell me how to make it look right. Also, totally unbeta'd. Sorry.<strong>


	5. Part Four: Becoming Alice

**So this is it... The end... probably. lol This is definitely the end of the main story. I'm marking it "Complete". This started out as some background, a little bonus tale, and ended up being longer than the story it stemmed from. I am hereby dubbing it a Prequel. **

**I don't own anything, except the mistakes. No beta = typos. Sowwy. **

**See you at the bottom.  
><strong>

* * *

><p>Edward had barely gotten the full request out before Esme was screaming "YES!" He suggested that she talk it over with Carlisle, but she shushed him.<p>

"When can we meet her?" she asked, almost frantic. "Can she come here, or do we have to go there? How long will this take? Oh my God, I'm going to have a daughter! Put her on the phone!"

Unlike Officer Volturi, Esme didn't pause to let Edward answer. She hardly even paused to breathe.

"No, Mom, she's sleeping. I don't know how long it'll take, but you'll probably have to come here. I doubt you'll have any trouble, but you might want to get a lawyer, just in case."

"We have a lawyer, Edward. You father is a doctor for Christ's sake. People can be greedy liars, and we have to protect ourselves."

Edward felt a little stupid; he didn't have a lawyer. Though, the way his mother explained it, he felt it was something he should look into. Immediately.

When Mary awoke and looked up at Edward, the first words out of her mouth were, "Are you my daddy?"

Edward laughed nervously, thinking of running away and Dr. Seuss simultaneously. "No," he finally decided. "I am… your brother. And I'm here to take you _to _your mother and father."

"I has a mommy," Mary argued, but there was no conviction in it. It was as though she was already doubting her reality.

Edward patiently explained that she had not yet met her mother. He was also careful never to call her by name. It wasn't his place to change it, as he was not her parent, yet he couldn't help but want to honor her mother's wishes. The woman might be dead – she'd hinted as much – and though he felt it wrong to demonize her, he was also honor bound to stick to the letter. It was with a heavy heart that he lied to Mary, made her mother – a loving but misguided soul – into a wicked witch.

He had no qualms with making Frank into a monster. He hardly had to fib.

Carlisle and Esme turned up so quickly he wondered if they'd taken up teleportation. Carlisle, as it turned out, was entirely enthusiastic at the idea of a young daughter. Either that, or he did whatever Esme wanted – Edward could never be sure.

There was some red tape to get through. Not enough to be discouraging, but enough to make a nuisance of itself. In the end though, the courts decided what Edward knew all along: Carlisle and Esme Cullen were perfectly acceptable parents.

In just a few weeks, Mary Alice Brandon became Alice Marie Cullen. The only trouble was convincing her that this was the case.

She accepted the news of her parents easily enough – the fact that neither of her "first parents" were present was enough for her to believe that they hadn't really been family – but she steadfastly refused to be Alice.

"My name Mary!" she would shout whenever someone tried. Eventually, everyone got to calling her "Princess."

Edward followed them to Washington, just to be sure that she settled in nicely. She seemed to have accepted that Carlisle and Esme were her "real" parents, but never wanted to leave Edward's side. Whether it was him saving her life or Mary Ann's words, no one ever knew, but the princess was stuck like glue to her hero.

The first night in her new home, the princess fell asleep next to Edward. When she awoke alone in the night, she screamed bloody murder. Carlisle ran to her, but she kicked at him until he gave up and called for Esme. Perhaps she was afraid of men?

Esme came and met the same flailing limbs as her husband.

"Knigh' Knigh!" she cried out, over and over again. Edward finally heard from his place on the third floor, and hurried down as fast as he could. He had simply gone to get himself a change of clothes, but she had noticed his absence immediately.

"No leaf, knigh'" she sobbed into his chest when he'd finally calmed her. "No leaf Mary."

"I won't leave you, princess," he promised. "I'm your brother, and I love you. Mommy and Daddy love you too."

She hardly glanced at Carlisle and a tearful Esme, but nodded anyway.

"What can we do, Edward?" Esme whispered to him frantically once the girl had gone back to sleep. "She isn't comfortable with anyone but you. She won't… listen to anyone but you. How can she ever learn to trust us if she won't even let us near? She'll never love me," Esme sobbed into her husband's shoulder.

"Don't say that," Edward comforted. "She's just a little girl who's gone through something terrible. She doesn't even fully trust me, if you haven't noticed. She's afraid that I'll leave her behind at any moment. We just have to prove to her that we're family."

It was weeks before Edward was able to finally sleep alone, and that was only because his little princess had fallen asleep in Esme's lap as she told the heroic tales of Princess Alice, hoping her new daughter would take a liking to the name. Edward offered to take her off his mother's hands – almost literally – but Esme clung tight.

"She's fine right here," she whispered resolutely, and Carlisle brought them a quilt.

After that night, it was easier. Waking up in her new mother's arms seemed to be the tipping point. Each night, Esme wove tales of Princess Alice, locked in a tower by an evil pair who pretended to be her parents, while her true family – Queen Esme and King Carlisle – prayed for her safe return. Whenever the brave, handsome knight was mentioned, the child would cry, "Sir Ewar!" And by the time the princess had been rescued, she would snuggle into Esme's chest and drift, contentedly, to sleep.

Every now and then, Esme would include Emmett the Jester and Lady Rosalie, his fair maiden, in the stories. Their living counterparts hadn't visited, too afraid that Emmett's size and perhaps just adding _more_ may be overwhelming to the girl. By then, though, she understood that all of the characters in her fairy tale were real and was asking to meet the pair. Emmett sounded very funny to her, and she wanted, more than anything, to see someone as beautiful as Lady Rosalie in person.

"Soon," she was promised. "Very soon."

Carlisle and Esme taught her new games as well. Sometimes Edward played; sometimes he did not. She always had fun, regardless.

The day Carlisle went back to work was difficult.

"Daddy leaf?"

"Daddy has to leave, princess. But Daddy will come back."

"NO!"

Carlisle leaned down and gently held her face in his hands, and, looking her straight in the eyes he said, "I, King Carlisle, do hereby swear to you, Princess Alice"-she opened her mouth to object, but Carlisle continued over her- "that I shall return to this castle when Mickey Mouse is over." He glanced pointedly to his son, to be sure he understood.

"Pomis?" she asked, not seeming to hold any hope.

"Promise," he said, then kissed her once on the forehead and walked out.

She watched the door all day. She didn't want to eat or play, and she only half-heartedly listened to her mother's stories. There was no exclamation of "Ewar!" In fact, she didn't even pay attention to the real thing. Her preference for Edward had been eclipsed by the fear that Daddy wouldn't come home.

At 4:15, Edward put the Mickey tape in. It was exactly one hour long, but he knew that she would insist on fast forwarding through the previews and wouldn't count the credits. She watched as though Mickey held the answer to the meaning of life, the only thing she had focused on, aside from the front door, all day.

When Mickey awoke from his dream, rubbing his eyes in his familiar manner, just before the end credits began to roll, she was lifted from her seat and spun around in circles.

"Daddy!" she yelled, both delighted and surprised.

She never doubted again.

Her next bad day wasn't too far off. Daddy had left for work and Mommy was doing the laundry. Edward was making the princess breakfast and she accidentally knocked over the milk.

"Shit." Edward couldn't help but curse as the cold liquid saturated his groin. He immediately regretted his reaction when his sister's eyes went wide and she ran from the room crying. "Shit," he mumbled again.

Edward ran throughout the house, searching for his little princess, but she was nowhere to be found. He called for her by name, then remembered she wouldn't answer to it, and so he simply called for "Princess." When he saw that she wasn't in the living room, the den, or her own little-used bedroom, Edward got an idea.

There was a closet near the staircase. It wasn't a dirt-floored crawlspace, but it was small and dark, and filled with old coats. He hoped against hope that she would know better, but his heart nearly broke when he found her curled up behind the boots.

"I din't mean to," she whispered repeatedly. "I din't mean to be bad."

"Shh… it's okay, princess."

"NO!" she protested. "Mary. No Alice. No pincess." She pulled on a sweater until the entire hanger came down on her, but she didn't move or even make a sound as it covered her face. "Super, seekit, pie," she whispered.

Suddenly, Edward understood the real problem with her name, and simultaneously, the real need to change it.

Slowly, patiently, he removed the sweater from her head. When she looked confused rather than panicked, he lifted her in his arms and carried her back out to the living room.

"Your name is Alice Marie Cullen," he told her, holding her close. She didn't say a thing, just looked up at him with wide, bewildered eyes. "Alice Marie Cullen is a princess, and even princesses have accidents. But accidents don't make you bad. Accidents don't get punished."

"You say, you say…" she struggled.

"I said a bad word," Edward acknowledged. "That was an accident too. But that was _my _accident, and it wasn't your fault."

"Mary-"

"Mary is not your real name," he reiterated. "The people who called you Mary were bad. They wanted you to think you did bad things so they could punish you. Bad people like to punish. But you are not Mary, you are Alice. And you can not be bad by accident. If you are bad on purpose, you _will _be punished, but you will never – _Never – Ever – _have to go to the closet again. Do you understand?"

She nodded, but Edward wasn't convinced.

"What are you?"

"Pincess?" she answered, apparently unsure.

"And princesses have accidents. But are princesses _punished _for accidents?"

"No?"

"No," he confirmed. "Do accidents make you bad?"

"… No." She hesitated, but her response was more assured.

"No, they do not. But what if you _are _bad?"

"No bad." She shook her head from side-to-side, as if refuting the very possibility.

Edward chuckled. "Okay. Never be bad. But just in case, if you _were _bad, do you think you would have to go in the closet?"

"No hide?" She asked, a glimmer of hope in her eyes.

Edward was glad they had never brought up hide-and-go-seek before and made a mental note to mention it to his parents. "No hiding."

"Ever?"

"Never."

"The bad man..." She started to cry again, hiding her head in her hands.

"The bad man is gone, Alice. You never have to hide from him again."

"Ever?" she repeated, finally looking up.

"Never. Do you know why?"

"Why?"

"Because you're here, with your family. With Mommy and Daddy and Edward, and we love you. And you're going to meet Uncle Emmett, and he loves you too. The bad man is scared of love, and he knows that we'll always be here to protect you."

"All-ays?"

"Always and forever, and the day after that."

Esme came running into the room then, tears streaming down her face.

"Oh, Edward, that was so beautiful!" She grabbed her daughter and kissed all over her face.

oOoOo

The time had come, and Emmett couldn't be put off any longer. He told his parents that he had big news he needed to share, so he hoped his little sister was ready for him.

And it might just have been the fact that he was painted so wonderfully in Esme's stories, but it seemed that their fears about Emmett had been needless. He swooped right in and grabbed his new sister, tossing her in the air and playing helicopter without so much as an introduction. To general astonishment, she giggled and yelled out "Jester!" as she swung through the air.

"Told ya' she'd love me!" he said when he'd finally exhausted himself completely, but no one was paying attention to him.

"I've always wanted a daughter," Esme was saying between sobs, "and suddenly I have two." She was holding Rosalie's left hand in hers, having seen the evidence of Emmett's "big news" before he'd had the chance to reveal it. He was slightly put out by this, but happy that everyone was happy.

"Come on, little one," he sighed. "Meet my future wife."

To a chorus of "awws" the princess curtsied before the most beautiful woman she had ever seen.

"La'y Rose-lee," she greeted. "I… am Pincess Alice."

And so she was.

* * *

><p><strong>So, I definitely teared up a little as I wrote those last lines, but only because of the way I heard it in my head. I wish I had the talent to convey it perfectly, to make you see what I see. *sigh* I hope you enjoyed it anyway.<strong>

**BTW, I may or may not (probably may) write a future-take of her meeting Jasper. it _really would_ be just a blurby to show you how that ends up. No more epic tales for you, Alice, no matter how royal you may feel. **

**Keep this on alert if you want. No guarantees though. God knows it took me long enough just to finish this, and I don't want to make any promises I can't keep.  
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	6. Sequel!

**Just wanted to announce to all the followers/fans of this story... that I love you!**

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**Also, I've started a future-take sequel!**

It's a mini-series beginning eighteen years after _Slumbering Swan _ends and was originally intended to be a one shot. Just like the Alice story was supposed to be a one shot. So if you liked _Slumbering Swan _and _Becoming Alice (_included in _Swan_ as extras), then please mosey on over to my profile and give _And They All Lived..._ a shot. Here's the summary and a tiny sampling to (hopefully) pique your interest:

**Summary**

**Sir Edward has had his fair maiden for the better part of two decades. Their first marriage may or may not have been officiated by Elvis, but this time they're doing it right. Alice is only slightly jealous. After all, she is still very young: a fact the men she loves seem to love to exploit. And though Edward set out to save his family, he is not the true hero of this story.**

****Sample****

"It's great to-" Edward started to speak, but Alice let out a high-pitched squeal and launched herself through the air and on top of Bella. Literally. The impact knocked the usually unstable Bella onto her back with Alice falling right along with her.

The pair giggled uncontrollably as they lay there, unable to stop long enough to stand. Their laughter doubled when Edward squatted down next to them and started asking Bella questions like, "Do you know what day it is?" while feeling for lumps on her head.

"Seriously, Edward?" Bella asked between fits. "I thought we were over this. It's been eighteen years."

"Edward get over something?" said Emmett from the sidelines. "Maybe she did hit her head."

"As long as you have a brain, I'll be here to protect it." Edward helped his wife and sister up from the asphalt and immediately started conducting tests. Bella, quite used to living with an overprotective neurologist, dutifully followed his finger from side to side without so much as an eye roll. Rosalie wasn't as tolerant.

"I'd say she's been brainless since the day she said, 'I do.'"

"Her MRI's would suggest otherwise," said Edward seriously. "Seems okay, but any pain or dizziness…"

"And I'll report it immediately to my doctor," she finished and kissed him. "Please try not to worry so much."

Edward huffed and scrubbed at his face. "No sense of self-preservation."


End file.
